Wednesday, January 26, 2011
come fly with me
Never before have I been so excited to buy a new backpack.*
The Brit and I have embarrassingly gone for identical backpacks, His & Hers.
Well Blacks was having a sale, they are all black and shiny with yellow detail, and we were like "Sweet Christ, hand me the awesome looking backpack that makes my loins tingle with excitement."
So what does one do with a new backpack? You fill it with shit of course.
Stopped in at Superdrug, backpacks a-swinging, me with a girl hard on because Vietnam is two sleeps away, and promptly bought:
1) 6000 condoms
2) Our favourite lube, which now comes in convenient squeezy bottle
3) Under eye bag reducer, for men
4) Hand sanitiser in pump action bottle
5) Industrial-strength insect repellent (I haven't seen a mosquito in 7 months. I fear mosquitoes now like I fear Satanics seeking my skull for sacrificial ritual).
Pulled out my boardies, bikini and aqua shoes from the back of my cupboard. Holy hand grenade in a Jihad - we are flying on Friday night!
Guess which airline we're flying with. No, just guess.
Qantas. Australia's Favourite Airline.
Which means, for 13 ear-bleeding hours, in a pressurised metal capsule where there is no escape and only people suffering from deep vein thrombosis as we fly over India, we will be forced to listen to Australian accents.
"Hoi. Chicken or bayfe?"
Gosh. What an amazing turn of events.
* Backpack. Not fanny pack.